Dante's Awakening
by Neiru2012
Summary: A short story that combines mission 7 and 13 of Devil May Cry 3 to explain how Dante acquired his Devil Trigger. It was meant to vividly explore feelings of vulnerability, powerlessness, losing control, dying and subsequent rebirth.


Dante awoke on the cold, etched floor of a castle chamber dimly lit by stained glass mosaics. He groggily raised himself on his arms and grasped the sword that lay by his side. He stood up, flipped back his trenchcoat to check for his guns, and carefully surveyed his surroundings. The room was a closed circle – no windows saw outside of it, no doors led out of it, and its borders were obscured in darkness.

Vergil melted out of the shadows like an icy reflection of Dante himself. No words needed uttering. His stance was resolute, his gaze merciless, his lunge towards his brother a blur of blue, white, and shimmering steel that collided with Dante's blade in a flurry of sparks. The devil hunter slid back from the impact, but held fast, not giving Vergil any inkling of weakness. Yet he knew the strength and skill of his twin, and knew better the ruthless ambition of his character. Vergil broke off and unleashed a blitzkrieg of katana slashes which Dante deftly avoided through a martial ballet of dodges, parries, leaps, and rolls of superhuman agility across their compact arena.

Quick as he was, Vergil's attacks were relentless and seemed to come faster and bolder still. Dante could not tell if he was growing weaker or Vergil growing stronger, but his breath came harder and his heart was drumming in his ears. It was only a matter of time before a misstep allowed Vergil's katana to slice across his abdomen. Dante reflexively turned around to cradle his wound, giving his brother an easy opportunity to land a second blow to his back, as well. Dante stumbled forward and stopped his fall by leaning on his sword. He glanced around, panting heavily as he felt hot blood from stinging wounds trickle down his back and stomach. Vergil was moving much too fast, dashing and teleporting from all sides. In the blink of an eye the blue phantom disappeared, coming in directly behind Dante with nothing but a slight breeze to signify his presence.

A million thoughts flooded Dante's mind in the smallest fraction of a second it took him to realize his predicament, yet he knew there was nothing he could do. He sensed the air rush out of his lungs as Vergil's cold blade stabbed between his shoulders and burst out from his chest. Dante gaped down blankly at the bloodstained edge protruding from his torso. The momentary shock was still too great for his brain to register.

"So lithe, so dexterous, so clinging to life," Vergil spoke, "Yet even you are bound to this mortal slab of flesh." He twisted his blade deeper into his victim's chest to drive the point home. Dante's vision blurred as the searing pain finally exploded all through his body. He remembered to breathe, though it came in shallow, aching gasps garbled with blood. He could hear his heart ringing in his ears, although its beats were now sporadic and getting alarmingly weaker… weaker….. weaker…... weaker………… until his knees gave way and buckled under the increasing heaviness of his own weight, his fist unclenched, and his sword clanged to the floor. The splatters of blood gushing from his wound were already forming a reflective pool at his feet.

Vergil drew his brother's limp body closer along his katana and pulled his head back by the pristine strands of silver hair. "You are not worthy to be my opponent," he whispered in Dante's ear as he slipped their mother's amulet off his twin's neck, "There can only be one heir to Sparda's power." He let Dante slide off his blade and crumple onto the ground, sheathing his katana in one quick, measured gesture.

Vergil's voice was little more than a distant echo to him now. He did not know if his brother had gone or not. He no longer had control over his limbs or his senses. Life was leaking out of his body, leaving behind a shell that refused to function. The only concern left in his fading consciousness was the thought of dying, drowning in his own blood as darkness enveloped him……. For an indeterminable amount of time in the dark he waited unawares, until the faint flame of his soul rekindled itself of its own accord. Still it was dark, yet somewhere in the deepest recesses of his being he knew he existed… somewhere, somehow.

_Who am I?_

The question which always precedes all others. drip

_I don't know..._

The only path to the truth. Everything he thought he was, everything he wanted to be – it was all meaningless here. Here, alone with himself, with nothing else to compare against or relate to. drip

_Who am I? I am._

The only true answer to that question. drip

_I am..._

Like drops of blood falling onto the ground... Like drops of water falling into a still pond, his thoughts rippled through his being.

_I am..._

The primal mantra drifting through the void, riding on the crests of the undulating waves.

_I am..._

Growing louder and louder, the dripping like a pulsing heartbeat… Growing higher and higher, until the waters were churning with power.

_I AM..._

Power buried deep within the soul stirring to the surface, spanning ever outwards and spilling over to the shores of waking consciousness. Power as ancient as the world itself was flowing through his veins, closing his wounds, reanimating every part of his body, bringing color to his skin and revitalizing his senses. His mind slipped back in synch with his brain. His eyes flew open and he sprung to his feet with a sonic boom, sending shockwaves which shattered the mosaics. The demon inside him had awakened, and he never felt so alive.

"Thank you, Vergil," Dante smiled and clenched his fist.


End file.
